


good luck everybody

by mossclouds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Found Family, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marauders, Muggle London, Muggle Technology, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post canon, Queer Themes, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Swearing, chosen family, i can’t write smut so it is just referenced, i don’t know how tags work, i took my headcanons and ran, long chapters, marauders resurrected, marauders return, no so much swearing, oddball! draco, post-canon AU, so updates are slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26083774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mossclouds/pseuds/mossclouds
Summary: It happened in a back alley in muggle London. A back alley in Muggle London tucked in between old, sketchy clubs, one you wouldn’t pay attention to if you weren’t looking.It happened at a time when the war was both a recent memory, hardly four months ago but already also somehow a past lifetime. It happened in a back alley in muggle London, probably. Although these things are hard to trace.-After the war, loved ones come back to life, grimmauld place gets a makeover , Draco Malfoy is forced to live as a muggle, Harry Potter learns the world isn’t in black and white, everybody has to pick up the pieces and move on with their lives, and Sainsburys doesn’t do any good teabags.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Dudley Dursley/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. November

**Author's Note:**

> mostly a drarry fic, but with sides.  
> -  
> the title is a reference to the ajj album. i just thought it was nice.  
> -  
> This idea been living in my head rent free for about three years so I thought I might as well share :)  
> -  
> I have a bad habit of leaving disclaimers in the notes of everything I write so here we go:
> 
> I know very little about London, I've only been there a few times and am very Northern, but I really want this to have a London-y feel so i've done my best. Still, if you notice things don't seem right please let me know but also be gentle!
> 
> I also am going to need some suspension of disbelief about when this is set. Basically, the second wizarding war is only just over, but the world is pretty much the way it is now (like, ignoring the mess that is irl 2020), and the marauders were at school in the 70s, which is how it was in the 70s, but none of the ages have changed. Please forget how time works and enjoy this for what it is. Maybe the 90s just have current technology in this universe. I dunno.  
> -  
> also, here’s the pinterest board aesthetic for the fic: https://pin.it/3GiItWM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of home renovation, indie music, and newspaper cuttings

It happened in a back alley in muggle London. A back alley in Muggle London tucked in between old, sketchy clubs, unnoticed unless you were looking.It happened at a time when the war was both a recent memory, hardly four months ago but already also somehow a past lifetime. It happened in a back alley in muggle London, probably. Although these things are hard to trace. 

It was November, and Harry was not in a back alley, not yet. He was sitting on his bed, in Grimmauld Place, where everyone had eventually started to live while they waited for the future to start. After the battle it had seemed like the obvious place for him to go. If he had known he was to survive, it would have always been his plan, probably. That being said, he would have probably expected it to be a much more solemn affair. But then, who could have predicted moments after Harry had snapped the elder wand, Mcgonagall would announce that she had spoken to Dumbledore, walking and talking, and the evidence pointed towards the idea that anybody who had ever been murdered by or in the name of Voldemort was currently resurrecting themselves. That had led to a lot of aurors being sent around the country to find these people and take them to St Mungos, a lot of Obliviators working overtime with terribly confused muggles, and a lot of spirits lifted as the war came to an end. The No Longer Dead, as the Prophet had dubbed them, weren’t allowed to integrate yet. They were being kept in the hospital to be checked up on, and for those who had been deceased for a while, updated on the magical world. Still, the idea that Harry’s loved ones were breathing, and he could see them again - meet his parents, even - was one that he hadn’t properly stopped thinking about since he heard it. 

The news of the No-Longer-Dead were the reason that Harry’s move into Grimmauld place was a happy one, and he had vowed to make it nice enough that Sirius would be able to smile here, too. Living here was obvious for him, so he had picked a bedroom and made sure there weren’t any dead things in it. Admittedly, it was a less obvious move for all of his friends, but they had trickled in slowly and Harry felt the place was better for it. Ron and Hermione had come with him straight away, and awkwardly took a double room. It was strange, and different, but they were happy so Harry was too. Besides, it’s not like he hadn’t been expecting it. After a few days Ginny had come over, and she had asked Harry what was going to happen now, and Harry had said “I don’t really know” and Ginny had laughed and suggested they try being together again and Harry had laughed at that and he hadn’t laughed at much after the war ended so he figured it would be a good thing. Ginny moved into his room too then, and Harry hadn’t really got used to that, but he did like not having to be alone at night and he thought he’d probably adjust over time. The four of them started to spend most of their time performing cleaning charms, throwing rats out of windows, and building IKEA furniture the muggle way, which Harry insisted would make it feel more like a home. 

At some point in October, Neville had confided in Hermione that he didn’t want to be living with his Gran anymore, and Harry agreed that they had more than enough space than they knew what to do with and so he had found himself a bedroom there too. The house was slowly filling up with plants - another definite improvement, as far as Harry was concerned. Next was Luna, who Harry couldn’t remember officially deciding to live there, but she stayed over more and more and hadn’t left for weeks now. Then Seamus and Dean had let it slip they were looking for somewhere to move together, and Harry had scrunched his face, laughed, and said they were welcome to another of the empty rooms in his house. Seamus had immediately agreed. Dean had raised his eyebrows and asked Harry if he was serious, but Harry realised he was. Dean was great at painting the walls too, and then Grimmauld was colourful and covered in murals. George came over a lot, not usually to sleep, but enough to make it clear that he didn’t really know how to act waiting for Fred to be let out of hospital. He was quiet, and seemed unsure of himself, but he was learning to be his own person at the same time as counting down the days, and Ron told Harry he was happy about that. 

Harry liked it this way. It felt like the building was being forced to change in more than just the physical ways. It was full of young muggleborns, half bloods, blood traitors, and they were stripping it of the place it used to be. Kreacher was upset, and refused to talk to Harry for three weeks, but one day at the end of October, he emerged from the attic where he had been hiding and cooked them all a delicious roast dinner. From that point on, he seemed to warm back up to Harry, Ron and Hermione, who introduced him to their friends. Kreacher even seemed to support the changes in furnishing once he saw Harry was strangely equally reluctant to remove the Black family tapestry. Harry was less keen on the painting of Sirius’ mother, but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere and Kreacher was comforted by that, too. 

All in all, everything was working itself out. 

Harry was thinking about all this while he was sitting on his bed in November, hearing his friend’s voices from downstairs. He was flicking through the Prophet, which he was technically, halfheartedly, trying to stop buying. After weeks of frantic reading after the battle, avoiding Chosen One Worship and desperately looking for answers of what was supposed to happen now, Hermione had sat him down and insisted that there was no real plan and he should just try to live as Harry for a bit. Furthermore, she had said, they should be boycotting the Prophet after the things they had written in the past. Still, Harry had been out in his invisibility cloak in Diagon Alley looking for a fertiliser Neville wanted to try, and this one had been blowing down the path in the winter wind, so really, Harry could hardly be blamed for folding it up and tucking it into a coat pocket. He was doing everyone a favour really, getting rid of that litter! And then, once he had it, really it would be a waste not to read it, so Harry was hiding away in his room - no, his and Gin’s room - to read the newspaper.

He was on the front page again. This time it was mostly speculation about where he had gone and why he had vanished. (“You don’t owe them shit, mate”, Ron’s voice echoed in his head.) Otherwise it was filled with talk of Kingsley’s expected rise to Minister, the recovery of the wizarding economy and other things Harry was supposed to have an opinion on but didn’t quite understand. He threw it perfectly into the bin, shaking his head. But on the back cover, Draco Malfoy was smirking back at him.

Harry snatched the paper back up. Malfoy in the picture was drunk, clearly. He was swinging off the arm of a young man Harry didn’t recognise, throwing a two fingered salute at the camera. Harry furrowed his brow. Malfoy was wearing leather trousers. A mesh shirt. He was holding a muggle cigarette. Harry sat back down on the bed, clutching the article.  
‘Draco Malfoy, Controvesially Pardoned Death Eater and known Pureblood supremicist, spotted outside muggle gay bars in London,’ read the caption. Harry frowned. He hadn’t known Malfoy was, well - like that. Not that Harry had a problem with it. Of course! Seamus and Dean had been together for years - he knew it was fine, he supported them. But Malfoy? And muggle clubs? Muggle clothes? Harry shook his head. It didn’t bother him. Malfoy didn’t need to be a part of his life anymore, maybe never again depending on whether they decided to go back to school once it was built back up. He pulled off the sheet of the paper with the picture and put it away in the drawer by his bed, not really thinking about why, before throwing the rest back away. Shaking his head, Harry got up and headed in the direction of the bright sunlight and the talking and the loud music that Seamus was definitely insisting was crucially important to keep on. 

**********

The sun wasn’t shining through the window anymore, but they were still in the living room. Harry didn’t know the time, but the moon was high in the sky, Ginny was curled up asleep, her head on his lap, Dean was quietly sketching in the corner while Seamus smoked out the window and Luna was gazing at the stars. The music was quieter and Hermione was talking to Harry about taking the fidelius charm off the house. Harry didn’t really care either way.  
“Hermione?” He interrupted.

“Yes, Harry” she rolled her eyes fondly.

“Do you know anything about what happened to Malfoy after his trial?”

She turned to look at him, her dark eyes gentle.

“Not really. He has to go back to school once it’s open next year, I think.” She shrugged.

“He told me he has to help rebuild Hogwarts. If you hadn’t spoken for him he would probably be in Azkaban with his father.” Luna said softly.

Harry frowned. “Told you?”

“Sure. In a letter.”

Hermione glanced at Harry. He was glad to see she was surprised, too, but neither of them said anything more. Eventually, Harry fell asleep too, to the heavy breathing of the people he loved piled around him, and he felt safe.

***************

Somewhere across the city, Draco was dancing. There were lights flashing and if he had any control over his thoughts he probably could have explained how they work, he imagined. Now though, there were more important things to do, like drink and smoke and forget that his father hated him and was in prison and most of his friends wouldn’t be seen with him and his mother was deeply disappointed. His wand was somewhere at the manor. He hadn’t been there all week and he didn’t need it anymore, anyway.


	2. december

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of cousins, christmas, coffee shops, and wavering heterosexuality.

Harry was sitting in the kitchen with Hermione and Ron. The sun was just peeking in, through the window, and Hermione was reading through accounts of reversed memory spells. Ron was pretty sure that getting Hermione’s parents memories back would be easy, Hermione was worried it would go wrong. Harry thought maybe she was also putting it off a bit because she didn’t know if they would blame her for what she had had to do. He was eating the toast Ron had burned because really, with some jam on it, you could hardly even tell.

“I think I do want to do it soon,” Hermione said.

“Nice one,” Harry grinned, keeping his face as encouraging as he knew how. “What’ve we got to do?” 

Hermione sighed. “It really is quite simple. A reverse of the original spell, that’s all.” 

“Told you. Nothing to it,” Ron said. 

“No, I know. Just. They’re my parents, you know? I can’t afford to leave any room for error.” Hermione stole a slice of toast absentmindedly. Harry swatted at her hand to no avail, but then remembered he was trying to be supportive and left his hand on her shoulder for a moment.

Unfortunately, the calm of the morning was broken only seconds later, Seamus sliding down the banister, Ginny running after him.

“You bitch!” She yelled, but Harry could hear her smile. 

Seamus came crashing into the kitchen and lunged under the table by Harry’s feet.

“What the fuck, mate?” Harry raised his eyebrows, but also his feet, grudgingly.

“Shut up! I’m not here!” 

Ginny marched in. Her eyebrows were purple.

“Ah.” said Harry. He could see the problem. He kicked Seamus, who dramatically rolled across the kitchen floor, giggling. 

“There’s nothing I can do, Gin!”

“Change it back.” 

“Can’t. It’s muggle hair dye and Ron dared me anyway so really you should blame him!”

Ron hurried upstairs. He mumbled something about going to change. Harry thought he had the right idea. He knew from experience that even Ginny’s good natured hexes were not to be taken lightly. 

“It’ll wash off in a couple days. Plus it looks hot anyways, hey Harry?’ Seamus smirked. 

“Um. Yeah, sure.” Harry knew he had turned red. It was probably normal to feel uncomfortable at that, he reckoned. Seamus was just trying to embarrass him, after all.

Ginny’s face fell, just for a second, but Harry didn’t think anyone else noticed. Her wide smile was back quickly as she smacked Seamus playfully on the arm, saying, “Plus you keep stealing my clothes.” 

“Yeah.” Seamus shrugged, and went to put the kettle on.

That was one of the first muggle things they bought, for the house. Dean suggested that it might be nice to make the place a whole lot more muggle-friendly. That way they would have options. Harry agreed. It helped that he thought the Blacks would have hated it, and Sirius would love it when he came back. They had bought the kettle from Asda without realising that electricity in general wouldn’t work - not until Harry bought an expensive energy converter from a shop on Stronem Street. The price had come as almost as much a shock as it had been to discover new Wizarding areas of London. He’d never even thought to ask if there were more places, which was strange, looking back. The converter had been weak in a place as magical as Grimmauld until Hermione fixed it up a bit. Since then, though, they had been working to create a very muggle house, with the exception of the extension charms. Light switches started working, laptops got plugged in, phone calls started getting made. It was nice. It was a compromise between the magical and the muggle parts of Harry and he loved it. Though, he wouldn’t say that out loud, scared he would break this fragile happiness they had found. 

“We should be opening advent calendars.” He said instead. 

“You are so fucking right.” Seamus’ eyes widened. 

“Fuck’s an advent calendar?” Ginny said, which led to Hermione explaining muggle christmas traditions. Harry stopped listening and drank his tea that Seamus had made for him and put too much milk and not enough sugar in, but it was ok because everything was. He would go to Tesco and buy them all calendars later, but first he would let his friends argue about it. 

**********

There were eight doors of the calendars open now, and even Ron admitted there was some merit in having a reason to eat chocolate every morning. Last night they had gone out to a pub where nobody knew who Harry was, so it was a slow morning, but hangover potions definitely helped. Today was a Christmas shopping day, it had been decided, so Harry pulled on his jeans and an old Weasley jumper with his gryffindor scarf. Ginny was lying on the bed, probably covering it with mud from her boots, waiting for him to be ready. He caught himself trying to hide from Ginny as he changed, before realising that there was absolutely no reason to do so, seeing as they were together, and slowly turned back around. 

“What’re you gonna get Mum?” she asked. “Just so I don’t get the same thing.” 

“Depends where we go,” Harry shrugged. 

“Expand.” 

“Let me finish then,” Harry laughed. “If we go to like, Diagon I was thinking some of those candles that change scent ‘cos of how you’re feeling. But if we stick to muggle places I did see this wooden clock thing in John Lewis. Maybe I’ll get both.” 

Ginny raised an only slightly purple eyebrow. “If you get both you’re sucking up.”

Ron poked his head around the door, saying “as per!” 

“There’s a reason she likes me most,” Harry grinned, before turning to Ron. “Is everyone ready then?” 

Ron nodded, so Harry and Ginny followed him to the door. Hermione suggested they apparate to the tube station and work from there, so they did, the general consensus being that Hermione was brilliant and always right. 

**********

They had been shopping for hours in Westminster, and Dean was buying earrings for his sister while Seamus whispered to Luna about how willing he was to steal a pair for her if only she asked. Harry threw him a warning glance, mostly because if they got thrown out he knew Dean would be annoyed. Ron, Neville, Ginny and Hermione were waiting in a Starbucks down the road. Ron had complained he was tired from all the shopping and Neville had cagily agreed, and Ginny had said she would sit somewhere with them but apparently Hermione had seen something in her eyes that she deemed chaotic enough to babysit. She understood muggle money better than that lot anyway, so it was fair enough. 

The earrings successfully purchased, the remainder of the group strolled out of the shop, in the direction of the coffee shop to meet back up.

“To be fair mate, I do reckon you could have got those from like, a Claire’s.” Harry said. 

Dean shook his head. “She’d definitely notice.” 

Seamus pulled out a joint, and lit it with his wand in his sleeve. “Yeah, but she is also way too bloody polite. She’d never say anything.” 

“Not the point,” Dean rolled his eyes. 

That was when Harry saw Dudley Dursley walking in his direction, waving awkwardly, and he stopped in his tracks. 

“What it it?” Ginny said, turning back and frowning. 

“Harry, who is that?” Dean was watching Dudley approach.

“Give me a minute?” Harry asked, his fists clenching against his sides. 

Ginny raised her eyebrows, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to make introductions, or worse, explain. He shook his head, and so Ginny shrugged and led the way into the Starbucks, just as Dudley reached Harry.

“Hi.” Dudley said. “Sorry for interrupting, I just -” He trailed off.

Harry stared at him, his breath coming out shakier than he would have liked. 

“Do you want to sit down, maybe?” Harry got out, vaguely gesturing at a nearby bench, one that looked out over the Thames,

Dudley nodded, awkwardly, and did. Harry followed suit. They sat on the bench for a moment, Harry pressing his lips together and keeping his eyes resolutely forward.There were ducks, swimming in a line on the river, and tourists leaning over the railings to look into its depths. Dudley cleared his throat.

“Bit of a coincidence, this,” he said.

“Yeah.” Harry agreed, cautiously.

“You know, I actually have been trying to find you since we got back,” Dudley said. “But you’re not an easy man to find.” 

“Well, yeah. That’s probably on purpose.” Harry admitted. 

“I wanted to apologise. For - well. You know.” 

Harry nodded. He did. But then again. “I don’t blame you, really Dudley. And like, it’s in the past now.” He shrugged. “I’ve dealt with worse, probably.”

“Still shit.” Dudley grunted. 

“Yeah. You’ve changed.” Harry looked over at Dudley, finally.

“Thank God!” Dudley laughed. He hesitated before continuing. “When we were in the safe house Dad got a bit weird. Bit like he did when we were eleven, you know, but this time he couldn’t run anywhere, so I had to, sort of, figure things out for myself for a bit. And there were all these people, right, magic people, and with what Dad said I thought they’d be horrible, but they weren’t? They were dead kind and then I started to think, you know, they’re just people. Dad wouldn’t have any of it, course, but when we got out of there I moved in with my girlfriend instead and got a job teaching gym at this youth mental health centre and, well Harry, there’s people going there for a lot less than what we did to you.” 

Harry shook his head, suddenly determined to move on. “Your parents were scared. You were a kid. It’s fine.”

“I am sorry though, yeah?”

“Thanks, big D,” Harry grinned, and Dudley rolled his eyes but did too. 

Harry heard footsteps approaching, and turned around. 

“What the fuck?” Ron sighed. He was holding a half eaten blueberry muffin, and had clearly left his table in a hurry. Hermione was close behind him, and Ginny trailed further behind still, at least having the grace to look a bit guilty.

“Ron. It’s fine,” Harry said, shaking his head slightly. Ron frowned, but stayed silent.

“I should be getting off,” Dudley sighed, awkwardly getting to his feet. “You got a phone, Harry?”

“Sort of.” Harry smiled, snatching the napkin Ron had brought out with his drink and jotting down his number. “Stay in touch, yeah?” 

Dudley nodded, and walked away. Harry watched him make his way over to a blonde woman and grab her hand as they faded into the crowd.

Ron raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at Harry. 

“He was here, I was here. I couldn’t not say anything. He seems alright, anyway.” 

“No, mate. He’s an arse. He definitely does not deserve you fucking forgiving him.”

“Harry, are you okay?” Hermione asked, her eyes creased.

Harry nodded slowly. He thought he actually was. He said so. Hermione shot him a knowing smile, her lips together, and even Ron grudgingly nodded. Harry didn’t need to worry about Dudley, he decided. They would finish shopping, and then go home and eat the lasagne Kreacher had promised. And if Harry happened to buy Dudley a Christmas card, there would be nothing more said about it.

**********

It was the next week, when things fell apart. 

Harry was on top of Ginny on the bed, the night sky tucked behind the yellow curtains, their clothes scattered around the room. 

“Yes, Harry, Merlin,” Ginny moaned. Harry was watching a spider. It was crawling on the ceiling, headed for the corner with the mould. 

“Harry,” Ginny sighed. He hoped the mould was safe. He’d been breathing it in for months. He’d never really thought about it before, but knowing the potions that had likely been here, he really should have checked it. 

“Harry.” Ginny said, and rolled away from him. 

“Oh. What?” Harry said. 

“Harry, you’re not even remotely enjoying this, are you?” She asked. She was laying on her back, determinedly staring at the ceiling as Harry looked over, eyebrows furrowed. 

“What? Course I am!”

“No, like you really, really aren’t. For fucks sake, you’re hardly even hard.”

Harry frowned. Ginny pulled herself up, and sat with the sheets nestled around her. She gazed into his eyes. 

“Fuck it. Guess this is a good a time as any.” Ginny decided. 

“For what?” Harry shook his head minutely, eyes wide. “Ginny, what are you doing?”. 

Ginny took a deep breath. “You’re gay, Harry. I’m pretty you’re gay.”

Harry stared, shocked for a moment, before laughter erupted out of him, almost without his permission. He shook his head as he furrowed his brows at Ginny, but trailed off after a few moments had passed and she hadn’t joined in with his laughter.

“What, you’re not serious?” 

“I am.” Ginny said, her face scrunched in an expression that looked far too much like pity. 

“I’m _not_ gay.” Harry stared at her. It was hardly even an idea worth considering. And he hated pity. And he hated the way Ginny wasn’t answering him. Just sitting there, wrapped in the duvet, staring at him. “I’m not!” His voice was getting louder. 

Ginny sighed. “Harry, I think I’m going to get out of bed now. And then maybe go home. This isn’t fair on either of us. I’ll go see how Mum’s doing, stay there for a bit.”

“What the fuck Ginny? What are you doing?” Harry shouted. She was pulling her clothes on, and then she was packing a bag, and Harry sat and watched. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

“I don’t-,” Ginny said, but she kept her eyes away, focusing on the bags in front of her. “Maybe. Not forever, necessarily. It’s just, I think, it’s only fair, you know, that you think about it. And I wouldn’t blame you, if you are gay. Like, you know I’m bi, so I get it, and, well. Just - I think we should sort of put _us_ on hold for a bit.”

“This is ridiculous!” Harry spluttered. 

“And, like, I won’t tell anyone why, course. Tell them it’s just a mutual thing, we didn’t work out, it’ll be fine.”

And with that, Ginny grabbed the bags she had hastily put together and slipped out of the room. Harry lay back down slowly, not taking his eyes off the door; incredulous. His lips still slightly parted, his chest heaving with emotion. 

It seemed to him, all this had come out of nowhere. They’d been happy! They’d been doing fine! Sure, he had always known they didn’t look at each other quite the way Ron and Hermione did, or the way Dean and Seamus did. But that was to be expected, surely. They just needed more time, that was all.

Honestly, Harry thought, this was all very unfair. She’d just walked out, presumably apperated away by now, leaving Harry to deal with everything. How could he explain this to everyone? Oh and Ron! Ron would be furious - he’d assume that Harry had hurt his sister and how could Harry explain the truth without telling them what she had accused him of? Which, by the way, was completely unfounded. Harry wasn’t gay. He’d know if he was. He’d only ever been with girls, hadn’t even questioned that. Ginny hadn’t even let him speak, she just ran away without a second thought. 

Harry punched his pillows and charmed the lights off. He didn’t sleep for at least an hour, though, his frustration keeping his thoughts occupied. Eventually, when he did drift off, his dreams were of his friends shouting at him for forcing Ginny away, and no matter what he said, the shouting just got louder. 

**********

When Harry woke up the next morning, and stretched his body to find an empty bed, it took him a moment to remember to be angry about it. It was nice, really, the space. And the knowledge that there was no pressure to do anything, be the perfect person, because nobody was there. Of course, that only lasted for a few seconds, until he opened his eyes properly and remembered that he wasn’t pleased. He loved Ginny, and he thought she knew that, but she’d left anyway. There was absolutely nothing to be glad about. 

They had all been happy. They were finally all happy, and Ginny had to go and ruin that. There had been a sort of peace that they had all been enjoying for the first time in years, really, and now Harry had to break the news that something had changed.

He sighed as he went to throw the curtains open. It was definitely going to be a strange morning.

Once Harry had showered, brushed his teeth and even his hair, gotten dressed, shaved his face and given a moisturiser he found in the bathroom a try, he could think of no more excuses to stay in his room. He pulled open the door to go downstairs. He crossed his fingers tight, not one for superstition but willing to prolong the idea of having to talk about it for as long as possible. To be fair, he often was the first one awake, and it was only just past eight. So perhaps it made him cowardly, but if the others - especially Ron - were still in bed, he would most likely enjoy his breakfast a lot more. 

It was with a grimace that he turned the corner to hear a gentle humming coming from the kitchen. Harry gathered his supposed Gryffindor courage and went through the creaking door.

“Hi, Harry.” Luna turned to him, cheeks dimpling.

It could be worse, Harry supposed. Luna was sitting at the island in the kitchen with her long hair in three braids around her head, a bowl of frosties and her favourite mug. (It had a pink sheep hand painted onto it, and Ginny had got it for her last Christmas. Harry felt his courage start to shuffle away.) 

“You seem down,” she stated, her eyes focusing on Harry’s right ear. “Is it nargles, do you think? Or is it to do with Ginny going back to the burrow?” 

Harry blinked. “You know about that?” 

“Oh, yes. She came to my room last night and told me she had to leave but she couldn’t say why. I was worried it was a curse for a moment but now I think she might not have meant it literally.” Luna told him, her lilting voice showing no signs of accusation. “Oh! Can you say why?” She gasped.

Harry went to the cupboards and found himself a croissant that he’d bought the other day from Sainsburys, and started to butter it as he spoke.

“I think we might have broken up.” He frowned. “I’m not sure.” 

Luna turned to him, eyes wide, and nodded. “I think you probably did, then.”

Harry wrinkled his nose, but gave a nod of agreement. Luna went back to her frosties, humming what Harry just made out as the Oh Hellos. Harry smiled despite himself. Seamus had introduced the purebloods of the gang to muggle music and Luna especially had taken a liking to it. 

He thought about making a cup of tea, but there were no tea bags in the cupboard so he poured a glass of Hermione’s orange juice instead, and then sat down opposite Luna. 

“I don’t know what I’m meant to do, now.” He admitted.

“Well, eat your breakfast, I think.” Luna told him, seriously, but something in her eyes told him she hadn’t misunderstood. 

They ate in silence, for a bit, and Harry let himself think about what it would mean if he and Ginny had broken up. It really did throw his whole plan out of the window. Up to now, he’d been working on the assumption that he and Ginny would eventually get married and have kids, and he would support her quidditch career and she would support him as an auror, and their children would be best friends with Ron and Hermione’s, and they would all live a nice, normal, happy life. It was a fantasy that had gotten him through some of the hardest parts of the last year - the one he tried to never think about. It was what everyone expected of him. Ginny couldn’t just throw that away, right? 

At some point, Luna must have finished eating, because Harry was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of her mug floating over to the sink.

“It’ll be alright, Harry. Even if things aren’t what you thought they’d be.” She said, before leaving the kitchen with her hands in the air. 

It was only when Harry had finished his croissant and done the washing up the muggle way that the others started coming down, grabbing food and drinks. Harry sat at a chair, smiling at the right moments and laughing whenever Ron did. It was past ten, actually, when Ron looked around.

“Oi, where’s Ginny? She really still in bed?” He asked.

Harry swallowed, his stomach churning. 

“Um. About that.” He started, hesitantly. Ron swiveled to face him, frowning.

“What?” He said.

Harry took a deep breath. “She sort of left. Last night. She went home.”

“What the fuck?” Ron frowned, and despite Harry’s worry this was going to start an argument, he had to wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment. 

Hermione moved to Harry’s side and clasped one of his hands. “Are you okay, Harry? What’s going on?”

Shit. Harry had been so caught up in his worries that he hadn’t actually thought of an excuse. “She reckons we aren’t, like, a good couple”, he tried, “and she pretty much told me that and then left.” Harry muttered.

“What the fuck?” Ron said again, louder, this time leaning back heavily in his chair. “You are though. She’s been into you since she could bloody talk, Harry. Don’t worry, she’ll come round. I’ll smack her if she doesn’t.” 

Harry let out a small laugh. It was more out of surprise than anything else, really, but everything felt okay again, suddenly. Ron didn’t hate him! Sure, he didn’t know the full story, but it was fine because they were still on the same side and really, Harry shared his view on the whole affair anyway. 

Hermione was hugging him, now, supposedly as a comfort, and Neville was looking at him with an expression of loyalty, which was lovely considering how close he and Gin were. 

Harry decided not to think about how little comfort he actually felt he needed.

**********

As Christmas approached, the group in the house got smaller with everyone off to see their families. Neville was first to go, two weeks before Christmas day. His Gran had been insisting he paid a visit for a while, and he said it wouldn’t be right, not seeing her for Christmas. Seamus and Dean insisted he took his advent calendar back, Seamus earnestly telling him that if his Gran didn’t approve she could shove it up her arse.

Luna and Dean left soon after, and it was at that point that Harry felt the need to check with Ron that he’d still be welcome at the Burrow even with Ginny leaving him. Ron tutted and rolled his eyes, promising him that Molly would always want him around and anyway, if anyone had a problem they could do one. Harry punched him lightly in the shoulder, but nodded a thank you. 

Seamus left a few days before Christmas. He seemed nervous, but Dean wasn’t there and so Harry sat with him in his room and let him vent about the muggle village he grew up in, which was apparently very small and very Conservative and Catholic and genuinely believed he might be a demon because of the time that he got off a bus there wearing a skirt. Harry pulled him in for a hug and offered to stay at Grimmauld Place with him for the holiday, but Seamus rolled his eyes. 

“You’re a love, Harry, but it’s fine. I do love my Mam and Dad - I need to see them for Christmas. It’s just a shitty place I need to go to do that.” 

So then he left too, and the house felt empty. Ron and Hermione were still there, ready to leave for the Burrow on Christmas Eve, but Harry had gotten used to the noise and despite the new furniture, the house started to feel just a little too much like it had in the past, when the three of them had been holed up. Harry always had nightmares, but there were more of them then, almost every night. The day before Christmas Eve, he slept in the same bed as Hermione and Ron, who insisted he wasn’t being a burden or making things awkward because nothing could do that to them - they were far too close. 

Still, leaving for the Weasleys’ couldn't come soon enough, and Harry was relieved when Ron pulled out the floo powder the next afternoon. Harry grabbed the presents he had wrapped for everybody, and stepped through into the Burrow.

On the other side, he was met by a kitchen full of singing tinsel, garlands of holly, the drooping Christmas tree and the sound of laughter from the next room, and he knew that this was as much of a home as Hogwarts ever was. There was a warmth that wasn’t only coming from the fire. Hermione stepped out behind him, and then Ron, who offered an arm to each of them, in jest. Harry grabbed onto his elbow, grinning, and let himself be pulled through to say his hellos. 

They were caught up in a swirl of Weasleys, who seemed to take a break from busily setting up the house to launch in for hugs in turn. Molly shoved mince pies under Harry’s nose (which he ate, gladly), Charlie had high fives all around, Fleur greeted Harry with a kiss to his cheek. Harry’s eyes flickered to find Ginny guiltily at that, before he remembered that he had decided to just ignore her. It was too late, though, and she caught his eye with a small smile, gesturing to the garden with a nod. Harry nodded back, minutely, and watched as she edged around the room to go outside. He pulled Percy in for a slightly awkward half hug, noting with pride the effort Percy was making to be polite, and then shoved the presents he had brought under the tree so as to follow Ginny. 

He found her sitting beside a hedge in the light snow and sat next to her. It was freezing. Ginny snorted.

“Sorry. Should have warned you.” She said, a glint in her eyes.

“Wanker.” Harry said, but without malice.

She sighed. “Yeah, but I am, though.” She grew more solemn. “I’m sorry, you know? I just panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, that’s a pretty fucking heavy accusation I made.”

Harry had to agree. “Sure is,” he said, but he hated holding grudges, he’d had to hate far too many people and he really didn’t want to add more to the list. So, “It’s okay though,” he told her.

“Yeah?” Ginny asked, eyebrows raised slightly. “Have you thought about it, then?” 

“Oh, God, no. I didn’t mean - not that.” Harry spluttered. 

Ginny’s shoulders drooped. “Oh,” she said, and bit her bottom lip. “Will you? Because if you do, and I’m wrong, that’s cool. But I’ve seen the way you look at, like, guys you see in town, honest to god strangers, and it’s nothing like how you look at me.” 

Harry bristled. “Oh my god, Ginny. Why can’t you drop this?” 

“Please?” She asked, eyes crinkling. 

Harry clenched his fists, jaw tightened. “Look. I’m not - that. Honest. I’ve never even thought about all that, I swear.”

“Oh, Merlin, Harry I know. That’s my point. I think you really should try thinking about it instead of writing it all off. For me? Please?”

Harry closed his eyes and leant his head back against the tree behind him, and stayed there for a moment, the newspaper clipping of Malfoy in his bedside table springing to mind suddenly. Oh. 

“Ok.” He whispered.

**********

The day of Christmas was different to how it had been when they were younger, but better than the year before. It was complicated, in a way, with Percy’s exaggerated friendliness, and Molly’s worried looks between Harry and Ginny (Harry himself had decided to postpone those sort of worries until later), and George sitting slightly apart from his brothers, leaving space for somebody who wasn’t there, but it was full of hope too. Because this was the first Christmas in years where the future genuinely seemed like something to look forward to - friends and family who by all accounts should be dead waiting in hospital to meet them again next year, and then afterwards a whole life ahead, the war behind them. 

Harry ate too much and then sat on the floor and ripped paper off parcels like he should have gotten to as a child, and it was wonderful. His favourite gift was an old muggle record player from Arthur, who told him he had found it in the storage room at work, and noticed the words, _For Padfoot, from Moony,_ written on the bottom in permanent marker. Harry tried not to cry. Ginny smirked at him, noticing the tears anyway.

But as Christmas is wont to do, most of the day passed in a haze of shiny ornaments and food and music, and later, mulled wine, and before Harry knew it he was standing outside in the dark field as the stars shone down, cold and damp from definitely losing the snowball fight. And then soon enough again, he was warm and cosy in his pull out bed in Ron’s old room, listening to the soft snores beside him. 

It was one of Harry’s best Christmases yet.

**********

In the days that led up to the new year, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to Grimmauld, and it was much less painful than it had been the week before. Perhaps it was because he had been reminded that the war really was over. Maybe it had something to do with the way Hermione was insisting they left the house to do something fun every day, because that way they wouldn’t forget that they could now. Grimmauld Place was back to being _their_ place, it’s past not so relevant when it was full of Ikea's finest furniture and a plant collection that could have rivalled the Hogwarts greenhouses. Most people weren’t coming back until the new year, but George started coming with them on their day trips more often than not - be it to Camden’s markets, or pubs in the evenings. One day Hermione convinced them to take the train to a petting zoo that she had gone to when she was younger, and that seemed to make her even more focused on perfecting the spells to bring her parents back. 

Harry, meanwhile, took to waking up early and walking down to coffee shops, seeing as they were out of tea at home and the local Sainsburys wasn’t doing his favourite kind anymore. The walk gave him a chance to be alone, and think. He had promised Ginny, after all. The issue was, he didn’t really know how he was supposed to figure it out. 

Today’s drink of choice was an iced latte from Saint Espresso, which he was definitely regretting given the cold. He tucked it into the scarf he was wearing to carry it without his fingers hating him, and started the walk back. 

This _thinking_ , he decided, was getting him absolutely nowhere. He didn’t know how he was expected to just work things out. He’d never been the most introspective of people, but this wasn’t really something he could just go to Ron and Hermione about - he couldn’t exactly imagine asking them to just let him know how he felt about cock. So instead, he tried thinking about Ginny, as he strolled down the street in the crisp morning air, stepping over the cigarette butts that littered the pavement. 

The one thing he knew is that he loved her. He did truly love Ginny. But, maybe she did have a point about one thing, at least. As much as it terrified him to admit it, Harry was starting to accept that he thought of her in a very similar way to how he thought about Ron. She was like a sister - almost too much like one given the way he thought of the Weasleys as a family. It was almost strange, really, that they had slept together. He wished he hadn’t started thinking that way. It was very quickly tearing apart all of his plans, and they were plans he knew Ron shared. He didn’t want to let anyone down, but he could see that Ginny was probably right about him not being that romantically invested. 

But then if he didn’t want Ginny, who did he want? There weren’t any other women who he felt anything for - he knew that. And even if he did humour Ginny’s ideas, it wasn’t like there was a man he loved. 

Although, Harry thought, slowing down as his eyes widened, the idea of being with a man, a future with a man - it wasn’t as terrible as he had hoped he’d find the idea. 

Something about imagining it felt like a comfort, a relief. 

Oh Jesus, Harry thought, collapsing onto a slightly damp bench. Ginny might have been right.

**********

Obviously Harry’s friends could tell something was worrying him, for the rest of the day, but he felt almost physically incapable of saying it out loud. Even George, who was clearly dealing with his own issues, sat with Harry, who was in front of the television but not watching much.

“If this is about Gin, mate, she’ll come around.” He nodded.

Harry shook his head and let out a breath. “What if I don’t want her to?” He murmured. 

George raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh,” he said, and then squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “Then you’ll find a new girl and move on. And my little brother will get over it. If you’re happy, we’re happy.” 

Harry smiled back, but bit his cheek. 

By evening, Ron seemed restless. “Let’s go out, hey,” he suggested, “get pissed, forget whatever it is, Harry?” 

Harry shrugged, and agreed. It certainly couldn’t make things worse. George had gone home already, but Hermione nodded too, and so Harry went upstairs to pull on some nicer jeans and attempt to flatten his hair.

Ron dragged the pair of them to the Electric Ballroom - a nightclub that Seamus had introduced them to. Harry wasn’t really a fan of clubbing, and he knew Ron and Hermione weren’t exactly too keen either most of the time, but as escapism goes he decided it was worth a shot. He let himself be taken in by the mass of bodies, the flashing lights, the pulsing music, and the drinks being poured. 

*****

He was well and truly wasted by the time Hermione pulled him up from the corner he was sitting in, and said it was probably time to leave. He wasn’t happy to hear it. He liked that corner. It was lovely and solid and if he had to move he might fall over, and the corner had a very funny phallic drawing next to it that he was busy appreciating. 

“For heaven’s sake” Hermione mumbled and grabbed onto his hand, pulling him away from it. She was swaying a bit too but she seemed less likely to end up on the ground than Harry did, so he anchored himself to her arm and let her drag him out. Oh! Ron was holding his other arm. That was lovely. The club was lovely, and so was the door that he was shoved through, and so was the cold air that he was in after that, and so were the lights that were coming from the windows and streetlights. It looked like they were heading for the tube. Ron definitely seemed to be guiding him there. That was lovely. It seemed important that his friends knew that.

“Y’know, this is lovely.” He slurred. 

Ron grunted and held onto his arm tighter. “How much did you drink, mate?” He asked. He looked worried, but there was no need to worry. He ought to see that. Harry stumbled down the street, his friends arms never leaving his, but he still almost walked into somebody. They were in the way, it was their fault. 

“Well fuck me.” Ron said.

Harry thought that was a bit mean. It wasn’t his fault that Malfoy had got in the way of his feet, because that’s who the person was, now Harry squinted in that direction. He looked very cold in those clothes. He didn’t even have a coat on. Harry was thinking about offering his coat over, but then Malfoy sniffed and walked away. 

Harry didn’t remember much from the night after that.

**********

On New Years Eve, Harry woke up with a headache so bad that he almost forgot Voldemort was gone. He shoved on his glasses, trying to move as little as possible. The risk of being sick was definitely at about an 80% chance. He dragged his phone towards his face to check the time. It was almost twelve. He groaned and tried to sit up. Up to 90%. He took a few deep breaths, but it was no good. He used his phone to ring Hermione.

“Morning, Harry!” She shouted.

“Stop shouting,” he whispered. That only made her laugh harder.

“I’m not shouting, mate. Want me to bring a hangover potion in?” 

“Yes please,” Harry said, and hung up so he wouldn’t have to hear the laughing anymore.

She was in his room quickly, a vial of potion in hand, which she threw over. Harry caught it in a hand and downed it in one. Down to about 50%, which was lucky, because he didn’t fancy throwing up all over Hermione. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I love you.” 

“As you should,” she beamed, and walked over to sit on the end of his bed. “Are you going to tell me why you got so worked up yesterday?” She asked. “I’m worried.”

“Oh, fuck, don’t be. I’m fine,” Harry said, because he realised he actually was. It had been a lot to take in, yesterday, but now he’d had the time to process the fact that he could maybe be a little bit gay, he was feeling more comfortable with it. “I overreacted to something, that’s all,” he promised.

“Is it about Ginny?” she asked.

“Sort of,” Harry answered, completely honestly.

“Well, you’re going to see her today, you know. We’re going back over for New Years, Ron says, if that’s ok with you? You could always talk to her about it.”

Harry smiled. He could! She really was the only person who he could talk to about the whole thing! He nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah. I think I will.” He decided.

The three of them went back through the floo to the Burrow that afternoon, and it was just as lively. Bill and Fleur were absent, but otherwise the family was all together again. This time there wasn’t as much food cooking, but Molly still stacked plates full of leftovers, Harry’s being noticeably fuller than the rest. He heard her mumbling about looking after himself better as she pushed it his way. 

“What’s the plan for tonight, then?” Charlie asked.

“Me and Perce have sorted it! Get excited, big brother!” George grinned, the mischievous look that he’d been missing lately back on his face. Percy grimaced, and Ron laughed. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to have her own plans she was working on. 

“This was delicious, Molly, Arthur. Thank you! Tell you what, I’ll take the plates and wash up as thanks.” She smiled.

“Oh, thank you dear, that’s very kind,” Molly said. “You can’t do it all, though, love.” 

“You’re probably right, actually. Harry, Ginny, give me a hand?” She shrugged, the picture of nonchalance, and started to gather plates from around the table. Harry rolled his eyes, but got up and started to help. Ginny, bemused, did the same.  
As soon as they were through the doors, Hermione snatched everything the pair of them were holding and shoved both of her friends up the stairs. 

“I’ll do this, off you go!” She chimed.

Harry stuck his tongue out, but did as she said nevertheless, and followed Ginny into her room. 

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked, chucking.

“Well, I’d guess Hermione thinks we need to talk,” Harry said, starting to giggle too.

They sat on Ginny’s bed, facing each other with legs crossed, and after a moment Ginny said, “and do we?” 

“Probably,” Harry admitted. 

“Oh?”

“So. I think you might have a point,” Harry spoke in monotone, staring at the bedframe behind Ginny, “about the gay thing. But I don’t know how to know.” 

Ginny pulled Harry in for a hug so hard it almost winded him. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

“No, but,” Harry pulled away, “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out and I don’t know how to know, like for complete sure.”

“Bless you, Harry, but I think it sounds like you’ve figured it out.”

Harry shook his head.

Ginny leant back, in thought for a moment. 

“I mean, okay. Put it this way. Let’s think of Fleur naked, right. Feel anything?” 

Harry blanched. “Ew, Ginny. Let’s not think of your brothers wife naked, becuase what the fuck?” 

“Go with it!” She laughed. “I mean, I’m not exactly against the idea.” She raised her eyebrows playfully, and Harry hit her knee. 

“Right. Okay. So I’m not into that, I guess.” Harry frowned.

“Now Viktor Krum. Imagine he’s whacked his kit off and he’s in the room.” Ginny said.

Harry gulped. “Oh.” He said, and Ginny nodded playfully.

“My diagnosis has been proven with thorough examination!” She giggled, and Harry was laughing too, so maybe this wasn’t so scary after all.

**********

It turned out that George’s big plan for the night involved the garden gnomes, a flashmob, and lots of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes brand fireworks. They all stood in the garden as George lit them with his wand, counting down to midnight. And Harry didn’t start the new year with a kiss, like Ron and Hermione. But it was with a hug from Ginny, surrounded by his friends, in a place that he felt safe, and really, he decided, it couldn’t get much better than that.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave kudos and comments my dudes i need validation


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